A Kiss in Sweet Shire
by RunningGlades
Summary: From their first kiss to eventually coming of age, Mayline Puddifoot has always been at the side of Frodo Baggins. But when at last the War of the Ring invades the Shire, it seems her every hope for a future together is crushed. Frodo&O.C. No Mary-Sue.
1. A Kiss in Sweet Shire

_A Kiss in Sweet Shire _

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><p>With dawn only a few hours behind, the sun sat comfortably in a pale blue sky; its light shining down and illuminating even the far stretches of the Shire. Much to Farmer Maggot's dismay (although, currently, he did not know) a few young hobbits played in his fields, having strayed far in search of mushrooms and adventure from Hobbiton.<p>

After running about for a while and expelling most of their energy, the five hobbit youngsters encountered each other in a clearing of the field. Without much protest, they decided among themselves to play a favorite game and also what might serve as practice: _Run from Farmer Maggie. _Frodo Baggins, a young hobbit at the time and one of the five, stood in line of the uneven circle.

His skin was still fair as ever, and the bangs of his brown hair hung a bit in his eyes. After a quick poll, the youngsters decided Mayline Puddifoot would be Farmer Maggie. Frodo noted her frown (she was nearly always Farmer Maggie) but before he knew it, the other three hobbits bolted back into the field.

Mayline, given no time to protest, turned to him. Frodo's eyes widened. She was one of a small number of hobbits who possessed honey colored hair, and although some strands were wild about her face, the majority was braided back. Her cheeks and forehead were as dirty as his and with a determined expression, she looked at him.

Not sparing another moment, Frodo turned and tore through the field. As the last to bolt, his trail was easiest to follow. However he swerved all over—hoping to cause some kind of confusion as to his whereabouts, and didn't stop until he came to one end of the field. There he lowered and sat down on the edge of a small drop off. A small brook flowed almost ten feet beneath his feet, and Frodo watched it as he worked to catch his breath.

As often as Mayline was chosen to become Farmer Maggie, you could imagine she had become quite good at it; Frodo knew he'd be fleeing again soon. But for the moment, and hearing no sounds of pursuit, he took the chance to appreciate which would ultimately become his true love—the Shire. But being the young hobbit he was, soon enough Frodo started to grow restless, and his stomach ached for mushrooms.

He rose and walked the edge of the drop off further down. At the end, he knew he'd come upon a corner of the field where wild mushrooms grew, although it was fairly close to the real Farmer Maggot's dwelling. Keeping both his eyes and ears keen, Frodo lowered to his hands and knees and creeped along the edge of the wheat field. His watch was for either Mayline or some other type of trouble, but his nose could already smell the potent mushrooms he desired.

Frodo came upon them growing at the outskirts of the field and quickly pulled some from the ground. Without brushing away much dirt or grass he shoveled several into his mouth, sitting pleasantly and unknowing that all the while, Mayline watched him.

She had spotted him as he first sat down and let his feet dangle from the drop off; when he had rose in search of mushrooms, she crept along with him, more silent she liked to think than an Elf. For a minute or so Mayline observed him, a small smile growing on her mouth as she slowly began to crouch—preparing to burst out of the wheat like a leopard onto a gazelle.

Of all the youngsters, Frodo always seemed the easiest prey. Imagining she actually was some sort of leopard or giant creature often described in the stories for youngsters at Hobbiton, Mayline growled. It was pitiful, to say the least, but the sudden stiffness of Frodo and the perk of his head let it be known her warning had been heard.

In a terrific leap Mayline burst from the edge of the field, knocking into Frodo with enough force that sent the two of them rolling. Frodo rose in an instant and as Mayline bounded for him again, he sacrificed the mushrooms he'd stuffed in his pockets by throwing them at her. Mayline halted and laughed. She turned her face to avoid the mushrooms and eventually dove to pick them up from about her feet to throw them back, along with the occasional dirt-wad or clump of grass.

Frodo grinned as items soared back and forth through the air. His heart was beating considerably and the adrenaline rush had been enough to last him a lifetime, it seemed. For a while the young hobbits simply threw things at each other, smiling and giggling until their activities all at once came to an end, and they stared.

The first to look way, Mayline sat down in the dirt, her cheeks slightly flushed. While she drew a picture in the sand, Frodo approached curiously and plopped down beside her, his gaze scanning her art in the dirt. At first she had drawn what resembled a flower. When she erased it, a slight frown touched Frodo's mouth and he furrowed his eyebrows. He'd liked the drawing.

Mayline's hand quickly returned to the ground however. When she withdrew it, Frodo saw she had drawn an F. He peered at her and smiled a little as he erased two lines of the F and instead, made it an M. Mayline, suddenly flushing again, followed her impulse and leaned—but more fell into—Frodo. Their lips touched and although Mayline's eyes were squeezed shut, Frodo's could not have been wider.

He crawled backward out of the kiss and blinked a few times, his mind in a whirl and unsure what to make of it. The young girl hobbit blinked as well and stared at him, her cheeks growing ever more heated until her eyes, too, widened, and a small shriek of fear left her. She stood and without wasting another second, ran into the field.

Frodo, without given more than a few seconds to figure out what he had done, was suddenly lurched from the ground by the back of his shirt. He too let out a shriek when he saw he had been stealthy captured by the real Farmer Maggot, and from the looks of it, the morning had not dawned on his more merciful days.

"Young rascals in _my_ field, eating _my_ mushrooms!" he sputtered, shaking Frodo and his scythe. "Not to mention kissin' too! You wait until I tell Bilbo, you young kissin' Baggins!"


	2. A Monster in Evening Hours

_A Monster in Evening Hours_

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><p>It wasn't often Mayline was late for a play date. Frodo sat at the top of a small hill just outside the main chaos of Hobbiton, his hands buried in the dirt as he watched small figures within the town move about at a distance. Even though the sun was about to set and the sky was colored with many shades of orange, no one going about their affairs seemed to notice.<p>

For a while he played on his own, creating different shapes in the dirt and inspecting any insects he found, but eventually, Frodo noticed something huddling in the tall grass. He got on his hands and knees and lowered himself to the ground, his gaze narrowing as he stared at something several yards away.

It was dark and motionless at the base of the hill across from him. Half of him wanted to believe it was Mayline intentionally late to put him on edge and then frighten him with a prank, but whatever it was had no color variation.

Frodo took in a breath and decided to brave his curiosity. "Mayline?"

His loud, cautious call was unanswered; swept away in a sudden breeze that bent the blades of the tall grass. But still, nothing about the dark, motionless figure had changed.

Frodo sunk even lower. He could smell the earth without effort. The tall grass to his left suddenly began to crackle as it parted. His head snapped in that direction, but to his relief, Mayline had arrived at last.

Her green gaze caught his as she crawled toward him on all fours. Very catlike was she, and she smiled when she crawled up beside him, lowering just as close to the earth as he had.

"What are we doing?" she whispered.

Frodo blinked. "There's a dragon between us and Hobbiton." His was voice secretive.

Mayline raised her eyebrows, clearly unaware such a beast was lurking. "Where?"

Her head peeped up above the tall grass. She scanned the hilltop, but when she saw nothing, her eyes settled on the slope of the hill across from them, and she gasped. Immediately she dropped down again beside him.

"What do we do, Gil-galad?" she whispered. Mayline's eyes were wide.

Frodo returned his gaze to the distant, dark figure. During many of their games, he often assumed the identity of the once elven High King, all in part to the many elvish stories Bilbo shared with him in the evening.

"I will take care of this, fair maiden," he answered, determination mounting. "You should stay here—I will have to cut off its head."

Mayline bit her lip. Frodo started forward and the grass crackled while he passed through it slowly. Half way down the slope, he was no longer afraid; the maiden needed his protection, there was nothing Gil-galad could not defeat.

But he had almost reached the base of the other hill before he realized he wasn't alone. Quickly, Frodo glanced behind him. Her eyes on the ground, Mayline bumped into him before snapping her head up.

"What are you doing maiden?" Frodo's voice was stressed and low.

"I've come to help you. You can't do this alone."

"You could be killed."

"So could you!"

Until then, they had been whispering. Mayline's sudden outburst sent both of them cowering in the grass, and in unison, they peered up the hill in front of them.

The dark shape was closer.

It still remained huddled behind a wall of grass, but showed no indication it had heard them. Frodo squinted. If he looked hard enough, he thought he could see part of it rise and fall slowly.

"Please," he urged. "Stay _here_. The dragon could melt us in a second if something were to go wrong."

Mayline opened her mouth to protest, but Frodo's stern look made her words vanish. He continued on after that and she reluctantly stayed behind, although watching him earnestly. Frodo ascended the hill quickly. After all, he was not just any elf, and every movement would be as silent as if it never happened.

Finally, he slowed when the dark shape was no more than five feet away. Frodo hunkered down, his heart pounding beneath his dirty white shirt. This was it, and indeed, parts of the thing was rising and falling. Before he attacked, Frodo turned his head and took one last look at Mayline.

If the dragon were to succeed, it would be the last time he was able to do so. He could just make her out through the grass, waiting patiently and silently for something to happen.

Frodo brought his legs up and squatted on his feet, his not yet honed muscles preparing him for a terrific, life-or-death leap. And then, after a second, he sprang.

The young hobbit soared above the grass and directly into the dark figure. Frodo hit it head on and found the shape melded with his body just enough for him not to come out injured. He rolled to the side and a loud animal cry filled the air. A doe shot up from its bed and darted over the hill side.

Frodo sprang up again and raced to catch it, but it long disappeared by the time he found himself rounding the hill.

Mayline, who had just witnessed everything safely tucked away, suddenly jumped up.

"My hero! Gil-galad Baggins!"


	3. A Song in Solemn Afternoon

_A Song in Solemn Afternoon_

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><p>It was an hour ago that Bilbo had left Bag End to tend to some personal errands, and reluctantly, Frodo, now in his mid-twenties, remained behind. Although he insisted he might be any help or counsel to his uncle that evening as he went about, the aging hobbit thanked him for his generosity but with a pat on the back, ultimately bid him to stay.<p>

Frodo gazed out one of the few windows of Bag End, perched upon one of the two chairs at the wooden table across from the fireplace. The sun was ever lowering in the sky and the afternoon dwindling. A depression—quicker than a disappearing pint of ale—seeped through him. His day had started without much event to begin with, and now that Bilbo was out, the slow death of a dull day was becoming more and more apparent.

Frodo rose from the table and his chair slid out behind him, creating a loud noise as it moved across the hard floor. Immediately he left the common area and headed deeper into the hole of Bag End. _I will not faint from boredom today_, he thought. _As the nephew of perhaps the greatest adventuring hobbit, it would be appalling. _

When he reached his room, Frodo pushed aside the wooden door and grabbed for his cloak and an old walking stick once belonging to Bilbo. He leaned the walking stick against the wall and pulled his cloak over his shoulders, tying it over his chest.

Frodo grasped the worn walking stick again and left Bag End, closing the round door quietly behind him. At that end of Hobbiton, all was quiet. He reached up and pulled his hood over his head—enjoying a sudden air of mystery—and set off down the path. Perhaps somewhere out in the reaches of the Shire a dull death could not be found to his day after all.

A glimpse of elves would certainly elevate the oncoming evening, Frodo thought, but as always it was too unlikely. The trail leading from Bag End soon brought him to the main road that led to the heart of Hobbiton, but instead of following it all the way, Frodo broke off at one point and tread into the grass; then into a small forest beyond that.

There, orange rays of sun large and small fell through the tree tops as Frodo walked along, staring above. Really there was no defined path he followed, but a recent bend in the grass caused by something other than him proved to be enough guidance. He followed it as it wandered here and there through the trees; it occasionally stopped at wild flower patches but carried on.

Eventually, Frodo stopped examining the beauty around him and came to a halt. A sound had caught his ear, he thought, though it had quickly died. His blue gaze flashed to his left and right and even behind him as he turned. The sound picked up again, and with both fear and wonder Frodo quickly continued on.

The bent grass at his feet followed it, and soon the sound changed from just faint to soft, and then from soft to an audible song. He had gone as far as he could go. Frodo stood hidden behind a tree at the outskirts of the forest, where it was divided in half by a small ravine of flowing water. Between two trees not far from him the end of a log rested, and the rest was suspended over the water and connected both halves of the forest together.

Frodo pressed himself against the trunk of the tree. He peeked around the corner with one eye, his gaze falling on the young hobbit that sat in the middle of the log, her gaze on the water and her song filling the air. A little smile turned the corner of Frodo's mouth and he wanted to laugh.

The girl was Mayline, a friend since his youth, and it humored him to think she thought she had found solitude, singing where she assumed no one could hear. But why it was she preferred to sing alone, she'd never answered him. It was the first time Frodo had heard her sing, and he thought Mayline's voice was quite resonating.

He stepped out from the shadow of the tree and approached the start of the log, raising his own voice to join hers.

_The leaves fade,  
>and the showers fall…<br>Is there nothing meant to last, after all?_

Mayline opened her eyes. She was suddenly aware another voice had joined her chorus and she stiffened, abruptly turning her head. Although a good part of Frodo's face was covered by his hood, his radiant smile was a giveaway. Mayline felt her breath caught in her chest and was bewildered that he had somehow found her.

"Baggins!" she said loudly, her cheeks warm. "Have you resorted to stalking in order to surprise me these days?"

Frodo raised his eyebrows and knocked back his hood. "I wouldn't assume so much Mayline!" he retorted. "As planned as it seems, I did just happen upon you during an afternoon stroll."

The girl hobbit narrowed her gaze and regarded him suspiciously. Had it not been for the smile that touched her mouth, he would have taken her seriously.

"You might as well fill the emptiness beside me then," she said, half kind and half nonchalant. "It's too silly a thought to send you on your way and think of you lurking behind trees."

Frodo, who agreed in his mind that sitting beside her high above clear, pretty water was a fine idea, left his walking stick against a tree and started slowly onto the log. It was nearly too small for even a hobbit to cross comfortably. When he had almost reached her, Mayline's eyes widened and she gasped.

"Watch out!"

Startled, Frodo lost his balance as he stepped forward and fell, instantly gripping either side of the log with his hands and knees. His breathing had labored and his blue stare locked on her.

"What?" he exclaimed.

There was a horrifying silence, until:

"You're too easy to fool!" Mayline said, erupting into laughter. "No wonder I like it when you're around. No one makes me laugh as much as you."

Frowning, Frodo all at once fixed his position and sat proper on the log, his spirits disgruntled as she continued to laugh.

"Lucky for you, I did not fall into the water," he said shortly.

"If you had fallen, what would the water have done to me?"

"It's what I would have done when I got out."

Mayline shrugged. "I don't believe you're that dangerous a hobbit."

The two were now both in their mid-twenties. Other than gaining some height, Frodo's appearance hadn't changed much since he was a boy. His skin had remained pale and youthful, but Mayline did recognize that as they had grown from children into adolescence, Frodo with each year looked more thoughtful.

But perhaps, it was mainly a side effect from living with Bilbo, the most thought about hobbit in the Shire.

Mayline had more or less remained the same as well. She'd also gained height as the years passed, but her honey colored hair had darkened a little. Frodo would say it had gone from the color of sunrise to just about sunset. As a youngster she had worn her hair back in a braid, but now, it lay tied over her shoulder.

"Forgive me if my teasing bothers you," Mayline offered after a little silence. "I know I've been pestering you for years."

Frodo looked up from the water beneath them. He'd never wanted an apology from her, and he put his hand on her shoulder. "Sometimes you do get to me Mayline," he said good-naturedly. "But on the whole, I guess it's good for me. Sometimes I think I'm far too serious. The only time I really ever want to attend a party or drink ale with Pippin, Merry or Sam is when Bilbo celebrates his birthday every year."

Mayline smiled at the mention of the Shire's most anticipated event. It was only in the last few years she had started going, but every memory was vivid and very alive.

"Oh Baggins, I think you're fine just the way you are," she said softly. "We all of us balance ourselves out well. We have Merry and Pippin, the comedians; Sam, the watchful one; me, the prankster, and you… you're the insight."

Frodo nodded. It seemed it was so. "I suppose there's never been anything wrong with me then, if I help the balance."

Mayline shook her head. The sun had considerably lowered since Frodo first sat down beside her, and now, its final rays through the trees hit the color of his eyes just right. "No."


	4. Feelings By the Fire Side

**Hey! Visit my profile for notes on this story before you continue. AKISS is now offically completed, but there are things you should know :)**

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><p><em>Feelings by the Fire Side<em>

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><p>Pippin was grinning. Merry was looking to the side. Mayline was frowning.<p>

The three stood at the bottom of the hill below Bag End, waiting for Frodo and Sam to meet them at the bottom. Packs of personal camping supplies were strapped to their backs, and the summer air was particularly hot that day—or at least, Mayline's temperature was skyrocketing.

The two hobbits in front of her knew the secret, and because of that, there also stood a chance that before the day was over, _he_ might know too.

"Honestly," Pippin said at last, "I would just like to walk up there and see if Frodo and Sam need any help. They've kept us waiting for quite some time."

Mayline narrowed her gaze. "I wouldn't risk it, Peregrin. You'd love to meddle."

Pippin shrugged. "Must I say anything, anyway? It was obvious long before we got it out of you."

Mayline's cheeks flushed. She glanced quickly behind her, making sure Frodo and Sam were not on their way toward them before saying quietly: "It wasn't obvious—Merry, do you think he knows?"

Merry brought his eyes from the ground. "I can't say. Frodo is a little more out of tune when it comes to certain matters…"

He closed one eye and moved a finger in his ear. For some reason Mayline felt there was more he had declined to say, but didn't press for it. She sighed.

"Well you two wait here. I suppose they have been taking a while. I'll go up and—"

While she spoke, Mayline had been turning to travel back up the path to Bag End, but in doing so she'd nearly crashed into Sam, who'd appeared from nowhere.

"Mayline!" he burst. "It'd sooner be easier to go around me than through me."

She blinked and fell back a step. "Sam! I didn't realize you were—are you ready to go? Where's—?"

From a few feet behind Sam, Frodo stepped off the trail and stood in the grass. Both had packs of camping supplies strapped to their backs as the other three did, and his eyes were wide.

"A bit restless are you today Mayline?"

Had she not heard Pippin snicker behind her, her cheeks wouldn't have flushed again.

"I'm fine—well, it's the heat, you know. It gets to you after standing for a while."

She looked away and Frodo grinned. Lately, she'd been acting somewhat funnier than normal. He had given it some thought, but on the same token, decided it might be too rash to assume any suspicions.

"I imagine it would be so," he replied. "If we're all ready, let's begin. By the time we reach the Suron Wood there should still be enough sun to set camp."

Sam nodded, still in agreement with the advice Bilbo had given them just minutes before they'd descended down the hill. Mayline nodded as well and turned, following the lead of Merry and Pippin who led the group the rest of the way out of Hobbiton.

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><p>The area the four decided to camp for the next few days was one Frodo had once found with Bilbo, and believed there was no place better. After moving along a beaten trail for some time, he led the group into the lush grass deeper beneath the trees.<p>

Although none of them saw any markers and wondered how he was finding his way—if indeed they were not lost—they kept their mouths shut, and at last realized Frodo knew what he was doing when he stopped and smiled at them all.

In front of them, the trees had thinned, and the fading sun fell upon a lush clearing. The sound of water could be heard flowing somewhere near, and Mayline exhaled at the beautiful sight. Golden rays illuminated the grass, and each one of them knew the heart of the wood had been found, for no part of it was ordinary.

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><p>At dusk, Mayline knelt in the middle of their circled sleeping bags, trying to start a fire in a small space she'd cleared of grass. Some twigs and a few branches lay on the ground, and she struck one stone against another, hoping for a spark.<p>

For a while she did this, and each time a spark failed to fly, the more pathetic she felt.

"Come on," she said, biting her lip. "Just _spark_."

With a final strike, Mayline hit the rocks, but no spark jumped.

"Do you want help?"

Footsteps approached in the grass, and peering over her shoulder Mayline saw Merry. She smiled and moved aside.

"Yes! Please take over before I convince myself I'm not a true hobbit at all."

Mayline sighed but soon stared in amazement as Merry suddenly struck several sparks at once and her little heap of twigs flickered slightly. Down on his hands Merry blew into them, and their faces were suddenly illuminated with yellow light. Mayline blinked, her eyes on him as he sat proper again.

"How in all the lands…" she started, astonished.

Merry shrugged, but also smiled. "Don't think too much of it—I imagine I've spent more nights in the wood than you have."

Mayline nodded. "It's true, but I'm no less amazed Meriadoc."

He scratched his head. "It's strange to hear that name."

Mayline laughed a little. "Perhaps I should stick to Merry like everyone else."

"No—call me that if you like. It's strange, but if you want too—"

Again, the sound of footsteps in the grass came from behind them. Merry stopped, and his eyes lingered on Mayline a second before he followed her example and twisted around. Frodo and Sam were there behind them, their arms full of more branches and twigs. They moved around the two and sat on the opposite side of the fire, adding in more sticks.

"I see you finally have the fire going, Mayline," Frodo said. "It's a nice one."

She shook her head. "All credit goes to Merry. Without him we'd still be in the dark."

Smiling she peered at him, but he was a little more restless than she expected.

"I suppose I should find out where Pippin wandered too," he said quickly. "Have either of you seen him?"

"He followed us in the wood, but disappeared," Sam answered. "I've no clue where he's run off."

Merry rose from the grass and left them without another word. A yard or so away, he disappeared quietly into the trees. Mayline furrowed her eyebrows and brought her eyes to the fire. She'd been grateful for his help and thought nothing of it, but now, it seemed…

The empty impression in the grass beside her was suddenly filled again. Looking over, Mayline caught Frodo's blue gaze. Immediately her concerns for Merry disappeared, and she hated not knowing whether the heat on her face was from the fire.

"It's interesting," Frodo said thoughtfully.

Mayline waited, but: "What is?"

"Pippin shared something with me earlier that I suppose I should have realized."

Muscles tensing, Mayline's eyes widened. Nearly a hundred different ways to get her revenge flashed through her mind, and this time, the heat of the fire had nothing against that of her emotions. Reaching up, she twirled a strand of loose hair and bit her lip.

"I feel stupid really—I told him not to tell you, but he said it was already obvious and I guess it was—or is, I mean, I don't know." All of it was rushing from her mind to her mouth in complete word-vomit. "What do you think? I'm not expecting love or anything—actually I'm not expecting anything at all—"

"Mayline, slow it down."

"Perhaps I should just go—"

She had halfway risen from the ground when Frodo's hand grasped her wrist. Mayline's heart was pounding, and his touch although gentle, made her feel like a doe caught in a snare.

"I was talking about cloaks," he said. "I thought we were prepared, but if it rains we have none. I was going to ask if you brought any."

Mayline blinked. _Cloaks?_

She settled back into the grass, her heart still racing. Frodo's hand remained wrapped around her wrist.

"Oh—I see." It was all she could manage. _Cloaks?_

"What was all that you were saying before?"

"Nevermind it."

"No—I'd like to hear more."

Mayline turned her head and her gaze fell on him. "You'd like to hear more?"

It was Frodo's turn to look away. His cheeks normally had a tinge of red to them, but now it seemed the color was deepening. If he wasn't careful, he might experience his own episode of word-vomit. He let go of her wrist, and Mayline leaned closer to him, curious.

"You're usually quiet Baggins," she said with a small smile. "But not _this_ quiet."

She raised her hand. "If you don't say something now, I'll put a wet willy in your ear."

His eyes returned to her as the fire started to crackle noticeably. Oh, Mayline.

"Why hello the loveliest of love birds!"

Out of nowhere, Pippin landed behind them, and his arms laced around their necks. Immediately Mayline and Frodo fought against him and he laughed and withdrew his arms.

"A lad and lass shouldn't keep certain things bottled up, ya know—they might end spilling out in front of everyone."

Mayline shot up from the grass, the skin of her nose wrinkled.

"Pippin! Where have you been?"

"Roaming the woods, exploring this and that if you must know," he said innocently. "Thought it might do some good to give you and Frodo some well-deserved—"

Merry coughed abruptly. He'd gone unnoticed a few feet away until then. Frodo rose from the grass.

"About time we got dinner started isn't it?" he said. "Sam?"

Frodo looked across the fire. Everyone else's gaze followed. To their surprise and amusement, Samwise was asleep on his side in the lush grass, unaware of all the squabble.

Mayline took one look at him and grinned. Opportunity had presented itself. She creeped around the fireside and the others watched curiously. She hunkered in the grass only a foot or so from Sam, a few years too old now to be completely hidden, but none the less playful.

In an instant Mayline jumped up and tackled him, laughing before they even collided. Sam woke with a start, letting out a holler that caused Frodo, Merry and Pippin to burst out laughing.

"Beasts!" Sam cried. "Night-stalkers! Run, they're here!"

By the time he had dashed to the other end of the clearing, he realized there was no danger at all—just the laughter of the other hobbits. Sam's face turned bright pink, and he abruptly sat in the grass.

"I was just talking about dinner Sam," Frodo said between laughs, "but I didn't mean you!"

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><p>It took a while for the hobbits to settle down after that, and once a meal had indeed been made and sat heavily in their stomachs, one by one they slipped beneath the cover of their sleeping bags. Eventually, only Mayline and Frodo lay awake, their bags apart from the circle and side by side. Their arms were behind their heads as they stared at the stars.<p>

Mayline sighed gently. She closed her eyes and thought back to the moment Frodo had encouraged her to continue babbling.

_I wonder what it means_, she thought. _Was he just curious about how I felt? Or was there something he wanted to admit…_

"Do you believe in promises?"

Mayline opened her eyes. Slowly she turned her head. Frodo wasn't looking at her—his blue gaze was on the dark sky, illuminating his pale complexion with hundreds of small lights.

"What do you mean?" she asked quietly.

"I mean some are broken, and yet some are kept," he replied. "You grow up being told a promise is a promise, but sometimes, it's not."

Mayline furrowed her eyebrows. Still, she had no idea where he was going. Frodo took his eyes from the sky and looked at her, realizing she was at a loss.

"I want you to promise me you'll always stay in the Shire," he said at length.

Mayline blinked. "Frodo… why?"

"Because I never want to leave, not for good."

The hobbit-girl rolled on her side. "Neither do I. I love the Shire… and if you'll always be there, so will I."

Frodo smiled slightly. "Promise me that, then. But only if you believe in them."

Five or so inches lay between them, and Mayline closed her eyes as she moved and filled the space. It was natural to be so near him, to feel his warmth and fall asleep because of it.

"I promise."


	5. A Night of Strange and Impudent Things

_A Night of Strange and Impudent Things_

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><p>For the past week, the youth of Hobbiton had been living in a rush of quiet excitement. Anyone who had not come of age (still under 33 years) was invited to a mysterious party at Desdell Hall; a party no one seemed to know much about, other than it would happen in two days' time.<p>

Clean and trim invitations had been left at every hole a young hobbit resided, complete with instructions on what type of attire they should wear. Inspired, Pippin had hooked himself to the side of a reluctant Frodo and bounced him around Hobbiton market, with Sam following not too far behind.

Ahead, he spotted a cart that made him grin.

"Bow-ties! Frodo that's what you need to woe Miss Mayline—you'd certainly look dashing!"

He detached himself from his side and rushed to the cart; returning with several bow ties straight from a nightmare. Frodo bit his lip just at the sight of the horrid things—some were checkered, and others seemingly every shade of pink.

"I beg you, I'm not wearing a bow-tie," Frodo said as Pippin tried to preview one beneath his chin. "If I'm to go I'll wear just 'eligible, entrancing attire,' as it says here. Not something that will frighten her to death."

From the pocket of his coat, Frodo had withdrawn the invitation Bilbo had found on their doorstep. Pippin stared at him with furrowed eyebrows.

"But what does that mean?" he asked.

Frodo glanced up at him before returning his blue gaze to the invitation in his hands.

"I don't know," he said quietly.

"It means black clothing," Sam chimed in.

"Well I believe it means bow-ties," Pippin said shortly. "Come, we'll all wear one!"

Frodo frowned as another bow-tie was thrust under his neck (a bright purple and yellow checkered one at that).

"Dashing! Simply dashing!" Peregin cheered. "These colors are great for your complexion."

* * *

><p>The night before the party, Frodo and Sam lay on a small riverbank outside the main of Hobbiton. The sun had disappeared no more than an hour before, and with each minute, stars continued to reappear above them. Frodo lay with his hands behind his head, his eyes tracing the constellations.<p>

As usual his mind was lost to his thoughts, but at length, he spoke. "I suppose I will ask her Sam. I think… I think it's time to do something about it."

He turned his head and looked at him. Sam was staring at the stars, but it was obvious by his expression he hadn't heard a word.

"Sam?" Frodo repeated, quietly.

Sam blinked and shook his head a little, returning to the present time.

"What were ya saying Frodo?" he asked.

Frodo furrowed his brows. "What was on your mind?"

Sam shrugged. He returned his eyes to the stars, but even in the dim light Frodo could see color coming to his cheeks. He pushed Sam's shoulder and smiled.

"Come on, Sam, you can tell me. It's not often I see you so concentrated."

Sam sighed. Had it been Merry or Pippin prying he would have kept his guard until they'd stopped, but Frodo was different. He could be trusted with sensitive information, for one, without the risk of it being shared or used as a weapon to tease.

"Well you know that party comin' up… It's made me nervous about something I did today. Rosie—fine girl n' all—"

"Rosie Cotton?" Frodo's eyes were wide and bright. Curious indeed was he to see where this was going.

"Yeah—that's the one. Anyhow before we met here I was in the market again, you know, checking out some small shears I could use in Bilbo's garden when—well there she was. I couldn't help myself Frodo. I stood staring at her, saying nothing and just as she was about to give up on me, I—"

"You… what?"

No longer was Frodo lying on the ground. He was now sitting up and staring at Sam, who also got up.

"I—I asked her to go to the party with me," he at last admitted.

Sam's cheeks were now ablaze as he scratched the back of his neck.

"That's wonderful!" Frodo exclaimed. "Are you not happy about it?"

"No, no—I am. It's just, the more I think about it the more nervous I get. Rosie's a fine girl and all and I don't know what to do once we get to the party."

Frodo smiled. "Somehow I have faith in you, Samwise. Maybe you won't have to do much after all—I think the hardest part has passed."

Sam nodded. He agreed with that statement.

After a short silence, Sam asked, "So you'll be askin' Mayline? Makes sense that you would."

Frodo sat with his legs up and his elbows resting on his knees. A wild piece of wheat was in his hands and he wrapped it around his finger.

"I will be," he said at last, grinning.

* * *

><p>In the southern end of Hobbiton, a main stretch of holes had lanterns out for the evening and their curtains drawn. Once Sam and Frodo had departed from the riverbank, Frodo walked in the opposite direction of Bag End and instead followed the road to Mayline's hole.<p>

She lived with an aunt and sister, and much like Bag End, the outside of their hole was trim and well gardened. Frodo stopped in front of their round door and knocked his fist against it. There was a sound on the other side, and he caught a shadow flash against a closed curtain.

He straightened his posture as the door opened. But it was not Mayline standing there. Instead, her older sister Daphdil stared at him with wide eyes.

"May I speak to Mayline?" he asked.

The hobbit woman shook her head. "I'm sorry Frodo, she's not here."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "She's not? I was sure I would find her at this hour."

Daphdil shook her head again. "She didn't say much about where she was going before she left—probably just out finishing errands since Hobbiton has calmed down. Would you like me to leave a message?"

"No, thank you. I'm sorry to disturb."

"Goodnight Frodo."

He turned, and a little confused walked back out onto the road. The door shut, and he continued the rest of his walk home in the dark.

Throughout the next day, Frodo barely spent any time at Bag End. Instead he roamed the market and then the outskirts of Hobbiton hoping to find Mayline, but she seemed to be gone. As the day wore on, his spirits sank. Sam was busy preparing for the night with Rosie, and the two were often spotted running around together here and there.

Not even Merry could keep him company, for he seemed to have disappeared as well. Pippin's errands were unknown to him, and when he did run into him, he was soon to scurry off again.

…

That evening, Frodo prepared for the party with his mouth worked into a semi-permanent frown. Because he had bought his 'eligible, entrancing attire' before he had made an attempt to ask Mayline, he decided not to waste an outfit he'd probably never have chance to wear again.

The pants he pulled on were black and of much better quality than was normally worn on a regular day in the Shire. Next, his shirt was long sleeved and buttoned up the middle. It was a light grey, but in the right light had a sheen of silver. Lastly, Frodo slipped his arms through a black vest.

He felt good in the outfit, and it was disheartening to think Mayline might not see him in it. Wherever she had gone off too, he would be most curious to find out once he saw her again.

He left Bag End an hour before the party was to start, and by the time he reached Desdell Hall, a crowd of anxious young couples waited outside its doors. Sam and Rosie were ahead of him among the others, but hating the thought of being a third wheel, he didn't approach them.

Frodo remained among the bachelors when the doors at last opened, and the couples were the first to file in. He saw neither Merry nor Pippin enter, and was amused by the idea of whether or not they had actually found themselves a date.

At last Frodo went into the hall. Although the outside had been rather plain, the inside was decorated in various colors of pink, and extremely mushy. If there had been any other theme, the theme of _Love_ had strangled it. Across the room Frodo spotted Sam and Rosie settling down at a table, and at a loss for anything else to do, swallowed his pride and walked over to them.

"Hello there Frodo!" Sam called.

Frodo smiled and sat down across from them. "Hello Sam," he said pleasantly, already feeling better. "You look lovely Rosie."

Rosie smiled and nodded her head. "Thank you Frodo. Where's your own lovely date? It seems whoever had put on this party meant for no one to come alone."

He started to respond, but the first song of the evening started then. A small band of hobbits began playing instruments and Rosie's hand quickly found Sam's. With only a brief look at Frodo, he was then whisked away.

For a moment he sat alone, then eyed some kegs a few tables down and rose to make his way toward them. At least, when all else had failed, there was ale. He grabbed an empty mug and poured himself some, then turned and raised the rim to his mouth. The dance floor was full, and Sam and Rosie had become lost somewhere in the crowd. As he drank the ale, he realized it was different from any he had had before, and soon his mind was in a whirl much quicker than normal. Frodo started to go back to his table, but a young lass suddenly appeared in his way.

Her dress was different shades of green, and her hair was tied back. She grinned at him and took him by the arm.

"Come dance!" she said, and Frodo hardly set his mug down before she pulled him into the crowd.

But they hadn't danced long before at last—Frodo saw Mayline. She was in the arms of Merry, dressed in an elegant white dress stained at the hem and sleeve ends with dark pink. Her waved hair was behind her in a ponytail with a pink ribbon; she was a stunning sight and Frodo couldn't believe it.

He danced closer to them in the crowd, and when Mayline finished her twirl, she spotted him for the first time. Her eyes widened and without warning she stopped dancing, causing Merry to nearly fall into her.

"Baggins!" she exclaimed.

Frodo stopped dancing also. Mayline took note of the hobbit-girl with her arms around his neck and glared. Immediately the young lass let go of him and slipped away.

"Who was that?" Mayline snapped.

"What does it matter—you're here with _Merry_," Frodo replied.

"So?"

"So I wanted you as _my_ date."

Mayline blinked. For a second she was speechless as his words repeated in her mind.

"Well—Merry didn't wait until the last moment to ask," she retorted above the noise.

There was no way he would win this one. Mayline had in fact hoped Frodo would ask after she received the invitation, and when Merry reached her first, she had no good reason to say no. Frodo stepped forward and took her hand. His blue gaze suddenly stared into hers with need, and the anger across her face dissolved.

"Will you step outside with me?"

Mayline sighed heavily. "Frodo—I'm with Merry—"

She turned, but Merry was no longer behind her. Mayline looked around but he was nowhere near them in the crowd.

...

Outside the hall, the music was now a dull thud in the air, and Mayline wrapped her arms around herself because of the slight chill. Frodo was beside her and noted her arms.

"Would you like my vest?"

Mayline looked at him and smiled a little. "I don't think it will help that much."

Frodo unbuttoned it and slid it off, then held it out for her. "Take it Mayline."

Sighing, she took the vest and put it on. The sides were loose around her, and she held out her arms to make a point.

"There are no sleeves—how will it help?"

As if realizing that for the first time, Frodo furrowed his brows and blinked.

"Tell me you didn't have any of the ale," Mayline added, her voice slightly raised.

Frodo blinked again. He said nothing and nodded. Mayline bit her lip and she looked at the ground.

"Pippin had some earlier and it completely dazed him. He's energetic enough as it is and he started acting funnier than usual if you can imagine. Eventually I made him leave with a group of bachelors that had also had more than…"

She brought her eyes from the ground, and stopped when she noticed Frodo was incredibly close. But Mayline had no more than a second to spare before he kissed her. It was innocent and lingering, and when he pulled back she gasped a little for air.

If only the circumstances surrounding the moment had been as satisfying.

"Merry feels for me," she blurted.

Frodo nodded. It was no surprise, and had it not been for the ale, he would have been more reserved against his impulse and sharing the truth.

"I know," he said calmly. "But I do too."

Mayline stared, hoping she had heard Frodo and not the strange ale. But at length her eyes fell to the ground again.

"I don't know what to do—I don't want to hurt him."

In a second Frodo's arm fell around her shoulders. Mayline leaned against him, and his voice slipped gently into her ear.

"Have you enough of the party?"

Somehow she felt like a child again, and all she could do to answer was nod.

"Come then, I'll walk you home."


	6. A Party of Twisted Fate P1

_A Party of Twisted Fate - _Part I

* * *

><p>As was custom every September 22nd in recent years, Hobbiton prepared for the largest birthday bash of the year. Frodo and Bilbo were to be celebrated, and it was finally the time Frodo would be turning of age.<p>

From her far end of Hobbiton, Mayline could see the lights of the tents as she set out from her hole. Excitement carried her every step and she wore rather common clothes, figuring the night would continue the tradition of being more of a romp than formal event. Just a few weeks before Mayline had celebrated her own birthday and came of age, having ever since been eager for Frodo to join her.

Although no privileges of great significance were awarded to hobbits when the time came, her world seemed largely different even if it was only a temporary feeling.

_I don't know how, but something is going to happen tonight… _

Mayline grinned as scenario after scenario of Frodo asking her to be his lass danced through her mind. She was ashamed of just how woozy it made her, but since the days of their childhood, it had been a day in coming she longed for.

Trotting up the last hill in which the party lay beyond, Mayline envisioned her favorite scenario thus far.

_They were quite a distance from the birthday bash, but the lights still managed to illuminate them and the music echoed faintly. Frodo had wanted to be alone, and of course, Mayline did not object. He stopped walking at last but his hand remained wrapped around hers._

_Mayline took a deep breath as he faced her. _

"_Dearest Mayline," he said, cheeks flushing. "What I want to say is extremely forward, but it's how I feel."_

Reality Mayline sighed dramatically at his imagined, handsome shyness.

"_Don't be afraid Frodo," she said softly. "Whatever you have to say, say it."_

_He peered at her a moment longer before suddenly lowering to one knee. Mayline raised her eyebrows, and her free hand fell upon her chest. _

"_You are the most fair in the Shire," Frodo admitted. "And I can no longer stand knowing you and knowing you're not mine. But being my lass isn't enough. Please, accept my wild request to become a Baggins and marry me, Sweet Mayline. I'm nowhere near worthy, but I can offer you nothing but all of me until the end of our days." _

Reality Mayline reached the bottom of the hill, her breathing hitched. All the party was spread out grandly before her, but she saw none of it, still willingly trapped in her reverie. From a tent nearby, Frodo smiled and left the other three to welcome her.

_The beat of her heart picked up considerably beneath her hand. Mayline knew she would never experience a happier moment, and so lost in love was she that she did not answer._

_But at length Frodo grew nervous and impatient. His grasp on her hand tightened, and his brows furrowed desperately. _

"_I must have an answer," he urged. "Mayline, will you marry me?" _

Reality Frodo stepped in front of her. He was glad she had finally arrived, but noticed something vapid about her eyes. He leaned in, stealing a deeper look into their strange otherworldliness.

"May—?"

"Yes! Yes Frodo! I will, yes!"

Her sudden eruption startled him, and Frodo nearly fell back as she collided into him, her arms flying about his neck.

"The answer is yes!"

Her mind in a whirl, Mayline's reverie faded instantly at contact with the real world. She blinked and found Frodo staring at her as though she'd burst into flame.

"Mayline, what…?" was all he could manage.

Immediately her face turned red and she released him. Every ounce of warmth and splendor was gone, and the ultimately cruel scenario left her to face the real Frodo alone.

"Forgive me for being late," she said swiftly, "I—I hit my head earlier."

Frodo blinked. "So it seems. Are you ok?"

Mayline nodded vigorously. "Yes, yup—just fine."

His look of concern lingered before he gestured to her. "Come, walk this way—if you can. Merry, Pippin and Sam are all over there."

He started forward and Mayline followed closely behind, her cheeks aflame as though she really had been set on fire. By the time they walked under the tent and took their seats at a long oak table, she'd managed to recover somewhat. Frodo filled the space beside her, and she was relieved.

"Welcome Mayline!" Sam exclaimed.

She smiled. "Good evening, Samwise."

"What was going on over there?" Pippin piped up after a swig from his mug.

But his question went unanswered as Merry thrust his mug in the air. "Cheers again to Frodo! And welcome to the club!" he shouted. "The last of us is finally of age, and now we can all call ourselves old, dried up hobbits."

Full mugs of ale belonging to no one in particular were at various places across the table, and Mayline grabbed one to join the cheering. They brought their mugs from the air and all took a swig before, without word, Merry and Pippin suddenly ran off.

Mayline grinned. "And what are they off to in such a hurry?"

Frodo was grinning also, and he shrugged. "As if they might tell me. The most I've heard is they've found something in Gandalf's cart that will be the highlight of the evening."

Mayline raised her eyebrows. "They better hope he doesn't find them rummaging around in it."

"But this is Merry and Pip we're speaking of," Frodo said with an overly serious tone. "I'm sure their plan has been most carefully thought through."

"Geniuses, the both of them," Sam added with a roll of his eyes. "But Gandalf is as wise as they come. The likes of them will do nothing he won't surely find out."

"Perhaps you should look behind you, Sam," Frodo said slyly, bringing the rim of his mug to his mouth.

Mayline blinked and Sam turned. Out of nowhere Rosie had appeared, and much unlike Mayline, she'd chosen to look dashing for the evening. Sam's eyes widened.

"A group is dancing over at the far end of the field," Rosie said, her gaze shyly to the side. "So I thought I might ask if…"

In a moment Sam stood. He straightened, and feeling a confidence he didn't possess often, offered his arm.

"Certainly miss Roise," he said. "Let's go."

She was beaming after that and took his arm, picking up one side of her dress as they strolled away. Mayline watched them in awe, and warm feelings she had felt earlier had slowly come drifting back.

"It's nice, what's going on between them isn't it?" she said.

Frodo set his mug down. He nodded. "Sam is a good hobbit and an even better friend. He deserves to find love."

Mayline sighed. "It's always the sweetest in the Shire. They've known each other long enough I'd say… ever since he asked her to that strange dance at Desdell Hall and a little before."

Frodo nodded. "Pippin hasn't said much—but I doubt there's a lass wild enough to keep up with him. Merry, though, seems to have better luck."

Mayline nodded once. After the night of the dance over five years ago, she'd found Merry the next day and he admitted he had left because of "what was obvious." And although he held nothing against Frodo, or Mayline for his unrequited feelings in days after, "what as obvious" never really took off.

Some sort of change had settled upon Bag End. Bilbo was growing restless and Frodo occupied most of his time with him, secretly trying to soothe his anguish at the thought of the old hobbit wanting to leave the Shire again, and this time for good. Quietly Mayline remained at his side whenever he sent word for her to meet him somewhere, though it was only as a friend and not as his lass.

It seemed all Frodo wanted was friendship until everything passed and some feelings were resolved, so she had had no choice but to nod and offer whatever else she could. But what had come of the year almost behind them had been quite different from the rest, and with Bilbo more stable, Frodo's spirits lifted, and Mayline was ready to finally go all in.

She hesitated a moment, though, before letting sensitive words slip.

"How much longer do I have to wait Frodo?" she asked.

He didn't answer right away, and Mayline bit her lip.

"You still feel the same way, don't you?" she added.

"Yes. But I want to do it right."

She sighed. "The only wrong way is to never ask."

Mayline looked at her mug and tapped the side of it with her fingertips, waiting. Even though she hated to imagine that after all this time he would still find reason to turn her down, Mayline thought the silence before his response only confirmed it.

But her hand, however, was suddenly taken by his and she turned, her gaze falling into his own.

"Come on then," he said quickly. "I don't want to wait any longer, either, and it's as good a time as any. You know me Mayline—I know you. If we can't handle life together now, then I suppose we are never meant too."

Frodo rose from the table and Mayline was quick to follow. His hand was still around hers as they left the tent and crossed through more of the party, until at last it fell behind them as they ran. Mayline was running out of breath, and when at last Frodo stopped just before the light of the lanterns could no longer reach them, it seemed as if the line between her reverie and reality had blurred.

"Sweet Mayline," Frodo said, his eyes bright. "Can you forgive me for all the years gone, and at last become mine?"

His words would forever resonate within her at will, and her hands settled on his face as she grinned.

"Yes Baggins," she whispered.

And in that moment the sky crackled and terrified cries came from the other hobbits. Torn from their own world, Mayline and Frodo looked above them to watch as a red dragon burned and circled the dark sky. It sped toward them and Frodo snatched Mayline's hand before they made a run for it.

But halfway across the grassy field the dragon bore down on them and they hit the ground, avoiding the sudden rush of fire that soared by. Mayline lifted her head and stared in wonder as the dragon swooped above the tents and all at once disappeared. Other hobbits were also scattered along the ground, and when they realized the terrible hoax, laughter burst out.

Mayline instantly jumped to her hands and knees, wishing she could be more full of anger than laughter at her ruined moment.

"Merry and Pippin!" she exclaimed.

Frodo laughed. "Gandalf will certainly have their necks for that. Come, let us watch the reprimand!"

As had been predicted by Sam, Gandalf was indeed wise enough to figure out the sudden, "accidental" set off of one of his most dangerous fireworks was purposeful. Pippin and Merry hadn't gotten far before he caught them, and Mayline and Frodo watched from a bale of hay as Gandalf supervised their dishwashing.

The two were ashen faced and frowning, but neither Mayline nor Frodo could help but snicker. At last the finale of the evening had come, and every hobbit in attendance gathered around the area to hear Bilbo's speech.

Frodo's arm settled comfortably over Mayline's shoulders and she leaned into him. Their bale wasn't too far from where Bilbo was standing, and at last, he began to speak. Tired from the rush of adrenaline and coaxed even more by Frodo's warmth, Mayline closed her eyes.

Bilbo's voice faded, and she was unaware of how much time passed before hundreds of shocked gasps filled the air and woke her. She opened her eyes and sat with a start. Frodo was staring ahead, his eyes wide and expression unreadable.

"What happened?" she whispered.

Frodo looked at her. "I—I don't know. Bilbo vanished into the air."

Mayline blinked, and Frodo left her side. She watched as he walked over to Gandalf and conferred quietly with him. Turning her head she stared at the spot Bilbo had formerly been standing, and some curious hobbits were even examining it for any sign of a trick.

_Bilbo vanished into thin air. _

His words struck her again. Mayline looked back to Frodo and Gandalf, but found that in quite the same manor, they had also disappeared.


	7. A Party of Twisted Fate P2

**Note that some dialogue in this chapter I use straight from the book. It should be pretty obvious as to what dialogue it is. Of course, I own nothing of Tolkien's works, and simply used bits of it for this little fic. Enjoy. **

* * *

><p><em>A Party of Twisted Fate - <em>Part II

* * *

><p>Early one morning, Mayline woke from an undisturbed sleep in Bag End. With a small yawn she turned on her side beneath the sheets, and Frodo was beside her. He was also comfortable on his side, but his eyes were closed and mouth slightly parted.<p>

His breathing was easy, and his smooth, pale complexion was too much for her not to touch. Mayline reached out and placed her hand gently on the side of his face. A small smile turned the corner of her mouth. It was never her touch that roused him. Instead, Mayline would have to slide closer and whisper in his ear.

It wasn't long before his warmth engulfed her. "Frodo. Wake up, you—it's morning."

After a few seconds, Frodo shifted a little beneath the sheets. His eyebrows moved, yet his eyes did not open.

"How does breakfast sound?" she continued pleasantly.

With a quiet sigh, his blue gaze finally met her own. Their heads lay on the same pillow, their noses less than an inch apart. Frodo smiled a little.

"I'm afraid I'm too tired to rise just yet."

On her side Mayline pushed back the covers. She was wearing a white nightgown that came to her knees, and her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail.

"Then stay as you are. I'll be right back." And with that, she slid off the bed and disappeared from the room. Frodo waited, but it wasn't long before she returned. Mayline entered carrying a large tray full of various breakfast foods she'd assembled, and with a yawn Frodo sat up.

The hobbit woman returned to her side of the bed and placed the tray in between them before sliding back beneath the sheets. Immediately Frodo reached for a slice of bread and some homemade jam, and she poured some tea from a saucer into a small cup.

The sun fell in warm through their window.

"I love you," Frodo said.

It was those three words he always spoke as though they were nothing but an unchangeable fact. And of course, Mayline had no doubt they were.

"And I love you. I hope you are enjoying the jam—I made it myself."

Frodo nodded. "The jam is excellent Miss Puddifoot."

Mayline smiled but gave him a look. Clearly, he was teasing her. "Miss Puddifoot? I think our ceremony implied otherwise."

For a while after that Frodo continued to tease her about her old last name, and everything, finally, was as it should be. Perfect too, if there was no other way to describe it. But of course, every bit was only a shadow of a future Mayline would never have.

* * *

><p>The hobbit-woman blinked. Frodo and Gandalf had disappeared, and what was worse, the hobbits quickly fell into chaos as none could explain the disappearance of Bilbo and now had no idea what to do with themselves.<p>

Mayline jumped off the bale of hay and ran around like everyone else, searching first for Frodo, then Pippin and Merry, and at last, Sam. However, none were to be found. Almost in a panic she fled the party and ran back up the same hill she had descended earlier. It was tall enough to give her a good view of Hobbiton, and far on the other side, she thought she could see lights at Bag End.

Tearing down the hill she ran as fast as she could down the road, only wanting answers if nothing else. At long last when Mayline reached Bag End, she bolted up the trail and stopped in front of the round door, panting. Light flickered in the windows and hushed voices filled the air. As she raised her fist to knock, a sudden noise in the bushes caught her attention.

Mayline looked over and squinted. Without a doubt, someone was kneeling beneath the window. She dropped down to her knees to get a better look, and once gasped when she realized who it was.

"Sam!" she nearly shouted.

"Shhhhh," came his disgruntled voice from the bush. "Somethin's goin' on and I'm gonna find out what."

Mayline started to say something, but all at once a long arm shot out of the window and snatched Sam with incredible strength. Eyes wide, Mayline remained perfectly still. Moments later, a muffled, but firm question was shot at him and she could hear Sam's voice in response, jumbled but unmistakable.

"Well sir, I heard a deal I didn't rightly understand, about an enemy, and rings, and Mr. Bilbo, sir, and dragons, and a fiery mountain and—and Elves, sir. I listened because I couldn't help myself, if you know what I mean. Lor bless me, sir, but I do love tales of that sort. And I believe them too, whatever Ted may say. Elves, sir! I would dearly love to see _them_. Couldn't you take me to see the Elves, sir, when you go?"

Silently and half afraid, Mayline crawled to the spot he had been in, silent as a mouse and desperately eager to know what was happening. She leaned against the outside wall of Bag End, and for a while she sat there, simply listening.

"Get up, Sam!" said Gandalf suddenly. "You shall go away with Mr. Frodo!"

Immediately, Mayline heart sank. What was this about _leaving_ with Frodo? More of conversation followed after that, but it was hard to hear. Mayline changed her position and put her head closer to the open window.

"You ought to go quietly, and you ought to go soon," she heard Gandalf urge.

There was silence, until at last, "I know. But it is difficult to do both."

That was Frodo.

"Tonight would be best, the sooner you have it gone from here, the greater chance you have of not being found so quickly."

"But I must have goodbyes. Please, I cannot—"

"No goodbyes can be had in this matter," Gandalf said gravely. "It is important you slip away and without any knowing where you've gone."

Another silence fell again. Mayline's eyes were closed and a hand was on her chest. _No…_ was all she could think. _No Frodo, don't leave without a word…_

But a new sound filled the air. Footsteps rushed rapidly from an area near the window and toward the door of Bag End. Immediately Mayline's heart began to pound as the round door swung open a few feet from her and Frodo emerged.

He looked around quickly before racing down the hill and back toward the party. Instantly Mayline jumped out of the bush and followed him, not quite knowing or caring what she was doing. She maintained a long distance behind him, and when she saw him run up the hill and down into the party, she turned and took another way in.

For fear of her eavesdropping, she decided to make it look as though she had never left. Mayline raced to the area where they had only a little while ago sat on a bale of hay and stood near it, her eyes searching every hobbit around. But at last, she saw Frodo coming through the crowd.

When he spotted her his speed increased, but by the time he reached her, tears were already in her eyes. Frodo said nothing as he came to a jarring halt and pulled her into a tight embrace. Her eyes remained shut as she put her arms around him and his cheek pressed against her own.

In one moment it had all fallen apart—as if at last fate decided what they both wanted was truly never meant to be, and the toying was over.

Frodo pulled back enough to meet her gaze and remain in their embrace. Seeing tears already in her eyes caused his chest to swell heavily from the inside, and it was that sight of her he would always regret.

"The party is over—I have terrible news," he started, not quite knowing how to begin. "Something has happened Mayline, something far beyond my control and the future is no longer ours. Gandalf has a part in it, but he wishes I didn't have to carry the burden, and so do I."

"What has fallen on your shoulders?" Mayline asked desperately. "Whatever it is, I'll be right at your side Frodo—it won't tear us—"

"No Mayline, I cannot say and you cannot come."

The words were painful, but no less than the truth.

"So you're leaving me, aren't you?" And at that, more tears came. Mayline wiped them away and waited for the already known answer.

"Yes I'm leaving, tonight—I have too." Frodo's face was visibly pained, and he knew not what else to do. By the time he returned to Bag End, he knew Gandalf would be furious he had so ignorantly bolted out the door.

Perhaps no goodbyes could be had in the matter, but there was just one that did. Never could he have left her without word, without seeing that face he loved one last time. Mayline was receiving the very short end of the stick, but so was he, and perhaps even more so.

"If it means anything at all—I would have stayed here with you, in the Shire, to the end of my days had I been given the choice. But a greater will has overtaken me, and nothing I can do will stand against it."

Mayline wiped her eyes again, and to her surprise and relief Frodo leaned into her. Their kiss felt as deep and wanting as it ever had, and quite some time passed before they broke apart, each catching their breath. Mayline backed out of their embrace and Frodo turned.

"I don't know how to say it, but, I'm sure I love you Mayline."

But even though his words remained, she gave no response, for Frodo was gone. After that, it seemed she walked the entire way back to her hole blindly, eyes closed and a hand over her heart. With every beat, she waited for another to convince her she had made it through, and alive.


End file.
